


Unrequited

by drarryisgreen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, femmeslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryisgreen/pseuds/drarryisgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about unrequited love. Really just a story about a woman’s love for Ginny Weasley.</p><p>Written for hprarefest 2013. </p><p>Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.</p><p>Notes: So this sort of popped up in my head and I couldn’t let go of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> When it comes to the Harry/Draco ship – Ginny is often terribly portrayed where she’s on the receiving end of a lot of character bashing and pure hate. I am too guilty of doing that once in a while so I had to write this basically to just express how wonderful it can be to fall in love with Ginny. That was really just my prompt to write this.

* * *

 

Yeah, you could say I liked her. Everybody liked her. That was the thing wasn’t it? She was the most popular girl in school everyone ages older and ages younger was in love with her and she dated them, most of them. Even Harry Potter.  
  
So how could I have ever compared?  
  
She was something that was so attainable yet so unattainable. It was one of those sad moments when I sat by myself and watched her—really watched her when no one else was looking and felt that I could relate. I was so pathetic, I thought I knew her.  
  
Sure, I could have walked up to her and said hello. She would have remembered me. She had made it a point to say ‘hi’ to me when she’d seen me at Hogsmeade.  
  
But, I didn’t. I never did.  
  
Boy after boy, heartbreak after heartbreak, and even after the war—I watched her, and I didn’t say anything.  
  
She went off to become a famous Quidditch Player and frequented the _Prophet_ with her love scandals. There was even a hint of bisexuality about her. I was intrigued. But, I didn’t say anything. I never did.  
  
I’d seen every game she played. Collected newspaper clippings about her with her pictures and her teammates and she even recognised me at the Ministry gala when she attended with her brother Percy. She told me she was taking a break from dating and all the drama. Wanted to concentrate on her career. She only had a few good years left and then they would eventually replace her.  
  
‘They’d be fools’ I said and she laughed. She touched my shoulder when she told me I was too kind and how she wished we were closer when we were in school together. I almost believed her—almost. I knew she was just being nice so I smiled and I eventually walked away. Because that’s what I did. That’s what you do when you’re in love with a goddess who is full of fire. Otherwise you get burned, right?  
  
I still remember that touch. She had so gently squeezed my shoulder and leaned into my ear to thank me. In a perfect world I would have asked her to come home with me. In a perfect world, I would have held her hand right after and kissed it.  
  
But I didn’t. I never did.  
  
Then the dry spell was over and she started dating again. By that time she’d made it a habit to owl me nearly every day. She asked me if I minded giving her dating advice and like a fool I said, ‘No, I don’t mind’. Because I was a fool and that’s what I did—foolish things. Never brave things—foolish, idiotic, hopeless things.  
  
Then we started meeting for tea, which lead to meeting for dinner, which lead to wine. Lots and lots of wine. There, I was back there, looking at her lips, watching her smile, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. And she flirted—with everyone but me. She even told me about her crush on her co-captain. Of how she’d seen her in the shower once and just watched her. How incredibly beautiful she thought the site was and how she wished she’d done something then. Yeah, I know that feeling. I have had that feeling nearly every day.  
  
She told me she wasn’t a jealous person and I laughed because I never believed her. The way she talked about her ex-lovers, even the horrible ones, the ones that really were tremendously bad in the sack, she watched them as they flirted with other women and she was green with envy. But she denied that she could ever get jealous. She denied that she wasn’t passionate, or fiery, she even dared to say that she was _boring_.  
  
I never believed her. Because that’s what I did. I had watched her for so long and longed for her for an even more extensive period of time—I knew I could never feel the way I did about a person that had no fire. She had fire. She had the fire I desired and beside my better judgement I dreamt of getting burnt. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t—I tried to walk away but she kept pulling me back.  
  
I told her that she was a fiery goddess and she scared men away because they really were just afraid of pleasure. Because that’s what I imagined her to be--a woman who just emits intense amounts of pleasure. She laughed at me. Of course she did. Because that’s what she did.  
  
Eventually I began to attend events without her because I knew I had to keep my head in check. I couldn’t fall for her more than I already had. I had to let her go. The idea of wanting her, I knew I had to let it all go. That’s what others told me. Others who saw the twinkle in my eye that she never did. But my actions were never directed towards hurting her.  
  
I educated myself of her social circle, of her social calendar, and I decided that the nights she was absolutely occupied with other obligations were the nights I would be as well. We started to mingle in different social circles. She dressed lavishly and attended fancy balls whereas I attended poetry nights and book readings. I would come home late at night and would have an owl waiting for me. She would ask me to accompany her for breakfast the next day and I’d oblige. Because—after all this time—still that’s what I did.  
  
It wasn’t long until I realised how she became jealous of my busy schedule as well. Still, according to her, she never got jealous. She wanted to have a claim over me, over my calendar. And I allowed it for a while. She insisted that we see each other every day and I allowed it. I never knew why she was being so insistent. I figured it was just a temporary necessity to her so I allowed it. Because that’s what I did.  
  
I had been a fool. But not the kind of fool I was in the beginning. I had been a fool because she had tried—so she says—she had tried to tell me that she wanted more of me—more from me. But I had missed all the signs. I had been so convinced for months, years, that she could never want me the way I wanted her that I didn’t even notice when she’d changed. Instead of the fancy galas and the lavish parties, she attended poetry nights and book readings with me. I didn’t notice anything at all. Finally she uttered the words.  
  
Kiss me.  
  
She had said.  
  
And I did. Because that’s what I did. She kissed me and I allowed it.  
  
 _ **The End.**_


End file.
